Truth Be Told (34 page)

“Can't get around it.”

She sauntered toward him and perched on the edge of the desk. “Lexi, you'll find a way,” she crossed her legs, letting the split in her dress expose her thigh, “to make this Revival the best.”

He licked his lips.

She laughed. “Not now, Lexington. We have too much to do. We have to get through this Revival because you know what's waiting on the other side.”

He nodded like a boy about to be rewarded with candy. “Our wedding,” he breathed.

She smiled. “So meet me at my place tonight with the final details, okay?” She clutched his jacket lapels and pulled him toward her, letting her lips graze his. “I'll see you tonight.”

She released him, and he backed out of the room. When he closed the door, she blew air from her cheeks. She smoothed her dress and turned to the window. The sun was finally bursting through the cloud cover, spreading its rays on the Hollywood sign and shining on everything around it, especially her.

“M
s. Monroe, I'm sorry.” Mr. Thomas, the headmaster of Wentworth Preparatory School opened his desk drawer. “This fell out of Jayde's backpack.”

Grace frowned at the plastic bag, then noticed the tiniest white pill.

“It's Ecstasy,” he explained.

Grace was sure she was about to faint, and she breathed deeply to force oxygen into her lungs. “Drugs?”

Mr. Thomas nodded. His eyes and cheeks drooped as if he felt sorry for her.

“Where did Jayde get drugs?”

Mr. Thomas's eyes pierced her. “I was hoping you could tell me, Ms. Monroe. Outside of one or two incidents over the past five years, we haven't had a problem with drugs in this school.”

“We've talked to Jayde about drugs.” Grace stared at the bag. “That was one of the issues in my campaign.”

“I know,” he murmured.

With his tone, Grace expected Mr. Thomas to add “you hypocrite!”

“We cannot tolerate this, Ms. Monroe.”

From that point, Grace heard pieces of Mr. Thomas's lecture: suspended for five days, must enroll in a drug awareness program. Grace barely breathed through her shock.

When Mr. Thomas stood, she did the same. He reached across the desk and shook her hand, dismissing her and her troubled daughter.

Grace walked on unsteady legs into the outer office where Jayde waited. With photographs of past presidents of the prestigious school staring down at them, Grace eyed her daughter. She turned and rushed into the hall. Jayde grabbed her backpack and ran after her mother.

The tapping of their heels along the polished floors was the only sound that filled the hallway. Grace moved as if speed would keep her anger at bay. Even when they got into the car, she remained silent.

She punched the number 1 to speed-dial to Conner's cell, but there was no answer. She thought about calling the office, but she didn't have the patience for Marilyn. Instead, she sped home, driving as she'd been walking. When she approached the hill that led to their home, Grace accelerated. She maneuvered the curves as if she were a NASCAR pro.

Jayde's breathing filled with fear, and Grace didn't know if it was her driving or that they were closer to home that made her daughter quiver. It didn't matter. She wanted terror implanted inside her child.

She slowed as she turned into their driveway, pulled into the garage, then closed the door, leaving them in the dimly lit garage.

Even after she turned off the ignition, Grace stared straight ahead. The shelves held remnants of normalcy: Conner's garden tools, the girl's Rollerblades, her old sewing machine.

“Go to your room.” Her tone bore an ominous threat, and before she uttered the last word, Jayde scooted from the car.

Grace tried Conner's cell phone again, but there was still no answer. She slammed the phone back into her purse, then tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. When Grace finally got to the door, Lily was waiting.

“What are you doing home?” Lily sighed when she saw Grace's expression. “What's wrong?”

Grace shook her head, unable to find words. “Where's Solomon?”

“In the family room with the tutor.” The frown remained on Lily's face.

Grace walked up the stairs. “Do me two favors, Mom. If Conner calls, please come and get me.”

“Sure,” Lily said as she watched Grace. “And what's the second one?”

Grace stopped at the top. “If you hear Jayde screaming, come up here and stop me from going to jail.”

Lily stared at Grace for a long moment, then hurried into the kitchen.

Grace took a breath and opened Jayde's door. She was on her bed, waiting with her hands folded. It was becoming too familiar a sight.

Grace stood, allowing a lifetime of memories to travel through her.

From birth, Grace believed Jayde was destined to be a star. And Jayde had fulfilled her mother's vision, excelling at every milestone. When she entered school at four, she was able to read and write better than any first grader. She had maintained her overachieving ways, exceeding expectations in academics, shining in every sport she played. Grace was so proud.

“I don't understand,” Grace said, speaking to herself as much as Jayde.

Jayde scurried farther back on the bed. She flinched when Grace sat next to her.

“I could be arrested for the thoughts I have right now.”

Jayde sobbed.

“I'm going to ask you some questions,” Grace continued calmly, “and I want each one answered truthfully.” She left her demand suspended in the air before she said, “How long have you been taking drugs?”

Jayde looked up with tears welling in her eyes. “I'm not, Mommy.” Gone was the mature confidence of her fifteen-year-old, replaced by the squeal of a toddler.

It took little effort for Grace to believe Jayde. From the moment Mr. Thomas shoved the plastic bag containing the pill in her face, Grace knew there was no way her child was taking Ecstasy. She couldn't explain the situation; she just knew her daughter.

But during their ride home, doubts had attacked her like darts as she wondered how many mothers were absolutely sure that their dope-smoking, crack-taking, heroin-injecting children were not strung out.

She turned to Jayde and lifted her chin.

Jayde's eyes overflowed with tears. “I know I'm not supposed to swear, Mommy, but I swear I'm not taking drugs.”

Grace took a deeper breath. With the same tone and her hand still cupping Jayde's face, she asked, “Where did you get the Ecstasy?”

Jayde's lips quivered. “I don't want to get anybody in trouble.”

She squeezed Jayde's chin—just a little—and stared into her eyes.

“I got it from Donald, Philip's cousin,” she sang faster than a snitch on Death Row.

Grace lowered her hand. She wasn't sure if it was Jayde's words or the way she ground her teeth that made her head hurt. In the fleeting moment, millions of thoughts paraded through her. She wondered who she needed to tell about this. She wondered if she could have Donald arrested. She wondered if a jury would convict her for what she really wanted to do.

“Donald said that since I was feeling so bad, the pill might help,” Jayde continued her confession. “I told him that I didn't do drugs, but he said that this time it was free.”

Grace breathed so that her words would remain calm. “When did you see Donald?” Jayde lowered her eyes and remained silent through the tears that dripped onto her lap. “I'm only asking my questions once.”

“I … I met him after school. I didn't go to tennis last week.”

Grace swallowed. “And what did you and Donald do while you were lying to your father and me?”

“I didn't do anything, I promise. And I didn't think I was lying,” she cried. “I just wanted to have some fun because I didn't think it was fair that I was on punishment and …”

Grace held up her hand. She stood because the thoughts of the capital offense that she entertained before returned. “I need to talk to your father. Until then, you are not to talk on the telephone. Don't turn on the TV or the computer.”

“I have homework.”

Grace glared at her. “You have five days to do your homework.” She paused. “I don't want you to leave this room. Even if you have to use the bathroom, you'd better ask.”

When Grace turned toward the door, Jayde said, “I'm so sorry, Mommy. I was feeling bad, and I didn't know what to do.”

Grace could feel the blood squeezing from her heart as she watched Jayde trembling on the bed. There was really no difference between the two of them. She hadn't handled the news of Solomon well either.

Grace walked out of the room. It was a long journey to her bedroom, where she tried to reach Conner again.

“Grace?”

“Mom, I'm in my bedroom.”

A moment later, Lily stood in her doorway. “Zoë needs you to call the office right away.” Grace nodded. “And Solomon's finished with his tutor. I'm going to pick up Amber. Do you want me to take Solomon with me?”

Grace wanted to tell her mother to take all the kids. And to take Zoë and Sara and Conner and everyone else in the city.

“I think Solomon would like to ride with you.”

“I already started dinner, so don't worry about that.”

Grace flopped back onto her bed the moment her mother was gone. She didn't care about dinner. That was the very last of her troubles.

Conner leaned over the rail and lifted the pillow behind Pilar's head. “Is that better?”

“Yes.” Her lips spread into a grimace of pain that was meant to be a smile.

Conner sat in the chair at the side of the bed. “I wanted to bring Solomon, but when I called, he was still with his tutor.”

Pilar's grimace widened. “When I spoke to him last night, he sounded fine. But how is he really?”

“He misses you. And he's scared. But we prayed this morning. He has a lot of faith.”

“And that's only one of the great things about your son.”

Conner grinned. “It's still hard to believe.”

“You've stepped into the role well.”

His smile weakened. “I've always wanted a son.”

Pilar frowned and tried to push herself up. “You feel guilty?” When Conner met her eyes, she forced her hand into the air. “Don't say that you're not. I hear it.”

It took him a moment to respond. “It's not like Solomon was conceived under the best circumstances.”

“But he was conceived and born, and has grown into quite a young man. That's the part you should be pleased about.”

He nodded.

“I know I made a mistake not telling you.” She paused. “I was afraid that you would hate Solomon.” She shifted her eyes from his gaze. “And I knew you would never leave Grace.” When she glanced back at him, tears filled her eyes.

“I understand,” he said softly.

“And now you'll be with Solomon for the best years of his life.”

He didn't trust himself to speak. He folded his hands under his chin.

“Don't be sad. I've had wonderful years with him,” Pilar said, mustering cheer. “He was a beautiful baby.”

“Spoken like a mother.” Conner chuckled, grateful for the shifting mood. “Why'd you name him Solomon?”

Pilar tried to laugh but coughed instead. She said, “That is such a heavy name for a little boy, right?”

“Our son carries it well. I'm curious. I want to know as much as I can …” He bit his lip, stopping the next words—“before you die”—from pressing into the air.

“Solomon was my grandfather's name,” Pilar said, rescuing both of them from returning to despair.

“I didn't know that.”

“And I loved that name from the Bible. I was thinking about King Solomon and his beginnings. I guess that was a way to push my hopes, dreams, and desires onto him. One day my son would be king.”

Conner chuckled.

Pilar lowered her voice. “And the situation in the Bible between David and Bathsheba wasn't very different from ours.”

He nodded.

“Conner, there are some things I want to talk to you about.” This time, her tone was the one that carried “before I die.”

“Whatever you need, Pilar.”

She was still for a moment. “I won't be going back to the apartment.”

Conner sat up straight. “The doctors said that you'd be released in a day or two.”

“But not because I'm getting better.” She paused again. “I don't think I should go back. With Solomon, it's too risky. I need … a hospice.” The request seemed to choke her. “I know there are waiting lists, but maybe Grace can do something.”

Conner swallowed and prayed that she wasn't giving up. He wasn't ready. Solomon wasn't ready. “We don't need to talk about this now.”

“Decisions have to be made.”

“Well, maybe you can stay with us.”

“Conner, please.” Pilar smiled wanly. “Don't even think about asking Grace to move me into your house. She doesn't need to become my caregiver.”

He paused. “I'll look into the hospice for you.”

She nodded. “You should have all the papers you need.” They sat in the sadness of the silence. Pilar pressed her lips together, making her already bloodless-looking lips paler. She said, “I want Solomon's name changed. I want him to be a Monroe.”

Conner nodded. He couldn't speak.

“Maybe he could keep Cruise as his middle name,” she said, as if she hadn't thought of that before.

“Yes.”

More saddening stillness surrounded them.